I stood in the doorway, surveying the bar and trying to pick Ms. True out of the crowd.
A woman peered up from her phone and looked back down.
Whoever she was, she was fucking gorgeous. She sat there with her spine straight, blond hair in a perfect bun, and a crisp black dress shirt tucked into a gray pencil skirt. Her high cheekbones almost kissed her deep-green eyes.
I wanted to saunter up to her, ask her for her number, and beg that on our first date she wear the red stilettos she had on, which made my cock instantly hard.
She glanced up, caught me staring, and waved me over.

Her eyes remained down, concentrating on her phone, as I approached.
“Mr. DeLuca, I presume,” she said, glancing up for a moment, her emerald eyes flickering. “Take a seat.”
Disappointment flooded me. The beautiful creature in front of me wasn’t calling me over to get my number. She was my new client.
“Ms. True?” I asked, letting my eyes linger on her legs for a little too long but not caring.